Devil's Heaven, Angel's Hell
by flawney
Summary: Draco wants Harry, but is it mutual? *slash* D/H ^^ (Complete!!!!!!!! Finally Complete!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
1. Trashed

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters in Harry Potter....you get the idea. Please don't sue me, I'm a poor high school student. This is my first posted fic, so leeme know what'cha think. Kay?

Trashed

"Godammit..." I can't say I felt great that morning (quite the opposite, actually). I woke up in a cold sweat, shivering in terror from a dream I don't even remember. I hate mornings like that. I guess it's my punishment, though. Y'know, for being me. Gods, its not like I haven't suffered enough. My life as a whole up to this point, has sucked. And I somehow don't think it will stop sucking any time soon. In fact, it only seems to be getting worse. That morning, though, I was fed up. It had been the three-month anniversary of my waking up like that. I didn't think I could deal with it anymore. I was really ready to end it all-just make it stop. Had half a mind to point my own wand at my forehead and curse myself to death. Or maybe just jump out the window. I don't know what I was thinking, but nothing happened because Ron woke up, and I had to act like everything was OK. God forbid the boy who lived have suicidal thoughts. 

But to tell the truth, I wouldn't have been able to kill myself, even if I had wanted to (but that doesn't mean I wasn't _thinking_ of every possible way to do away with my worthless existence every waking moment). I'm the symbol of hope to the entire wizarding world. I wouldn't be able to live with myself (reeeeeeeally bad pun). Plus, it would've given that sniveling git, Malfoy, too much pleasure. The last thing I ever wanted was to make that bastard happy. But, as all things seem to go in my life, I always get exactly what I don't want.

"Harry." I turned to my best friend and smiled. It wasn't entirely fake-I was glad to see him. But that didn't change the fact that I was still feeling helpless and miserable. Not to mention suicidal.

"Hmm?" was somehow the most intelligent response I could come up with. _Wow, Mom, I'm learning to speak! Wait-you've been dead all my life, you never heard me speak._ Yet another reason I had to hate my life flowed effortlessly into my mind with an angry thought dedicated to my great vocabulary use.

"Don't you think you should get dressed?" I hadn't even noticed he had already gotten dressed. _Wow, I'm observant. I'd miss a pink elephant waltzing thorough Snape's class._ "We'll miss breakfast." His loyalty to me amazes me, even now. As much as he loves to eat, he would miss breakfast on the account of my not being ready. He's always willing to make sacrifices for me. 

"Yeah, sure." I didn't think depressed people could move so fast. Somehow I managed to get dressed in under a minute, and get to the hall quickly enough to still eat. I guess I didn't want to disappoint Ron.

"Hey, Hermione!" Ah, the third member of our little party. The only other close friend I have ever had. Without them, I think I would kill myself (since there would be nothing to stop me from thinking about it, and no reason for me _to_ live). But I forgot such thoughts and sat down to breakfast, enjoying conversation with my best friends and the other Griffindors. Every once in a while I looked over at the Slytherin table, seeing that idiot and his goonies snickering about something. I could not have cared less. They all hated me anyway.

"Y'know, I've finally come to realize that the prospect of house-elves is not such a bad thing." Amazement must've been plastered on mine and Ron's faces.

"You what?"

"It's not so bad, at least where they're not treated badly. The ones here at Hogwarts seem very content." I was happy for her. At least she's stop muttering slave labor wherever she went. I had absolutely no thoughts about ending my life (a plus for me, it had been awhile) while she was talking. Or the rest of the day for that matter. At least until the Quidditch match that afternoon.

It was a Griffindor-Slytherin game, and I was pumped. I loved showing up that weasel who bought himself a spot on the team. He's not nearly as good a Seeker as I am (but to his credit, I will admit that he has some skill), and I make a point to remind him of that any chance I get. It's really the only way I can humiliate him without sinking to his level. And after what he started that day, I had NO intention of ever sinking to his level.

"Oy, Potter! Back again for another go?" I didn't give him the courtesy of even a glance. I was looking for the Snitch. "Haven't you learned your lesson yet?" He has to be the most annoying person I know.

"Shut up, Malfoy. I have a game to play." I must say he brings out my pleasant side. 

"So do I, Potter. I have a game to win." I snorted. He wasn't even looking for the Snitch, his chances of catching it were about the chances that I would be able to move out of the abomination on Privet Drive and move in with Sirius. And that'll _never_ happen. Murphy's Law dictates that my life must suck, and therefore the only chance I have at a happy home-life is of course, thrown out the window. But I do have Quidditch.

"Right. Whatever." The Snitch was near the Slytherin goal, beyond the bonehead. I whizzed past Malfoy and grabbed at it before a Bludger could knock me off my broom (but that didn't stop a human from doing it). Malfoy flew at me, full speed (probably out of anger) knocking us both off our brooms (I can't say it was the most intelligent thing he's ever done, but then again, he used me to break his fall). My four broken ribs, mangled left arm, and crooked spine (among other things), didn't bother him in the least. He _enjoyed_ it. My pain gave him some sort of perverse pleasure. I lifted my right arm into the air, despite the pain in my back (and the fact that Malfoy was still _lying_ on me), to show everyone that I had caught the snitch, thus ending the game. I think it pissed him off. 

"You may have won _this_ game, Potter," His minty fresh breath still managed to feel vile so close to my face as he hissed (like the snake that he is). "..but _our_ game is far from over." He kissed me full on he lips, using my surprised gasp as an opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth (quite forcefully, I might add). 

No one noticed though. Everyone was too high up in the stands to see that far down (he was on top of me anyway, they couldn't even see me under him). To top that off, I knew that he would get in absolutely no trouble for breaking nearly half of the bones in my body. To everyone in the stands it had looked as if he was merely trying to head me off for the Snitch. And since he fell too, there could be no charge of purposeful endangerment of my life. I lay on the ground, completely trashed and barely able to move, and he just walked away, with not even a hair on his head out of place. I swear, that bastard gets away with everything. 


	2. Afterthought

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters in Harry Potter....you get the idea. Please don't sue me, I'm a poor high school student. 

Afterthought

Well, I guess you could say the next day was better. Madame Pomfrey made me stay overnight (she might be able to mend bones in seconds, but the sheer number of broken bones I had……well, you get the idea). And for the first time in months, I didn't have nightmares. That alone brought me back to some amount of sanity. Of course, my bright, cherry morning had to be ruined by the thought of Malfoy's kiss. For awhile, I tried to brush it off as my imagination, but you just don't _imagine_ someone shoving his tongue down your throat. He kissed me. And he meant it. 

I didn't exactly know what he was trying to pull, or why, but whatever it was, and for whatever reason, he was definitely serious. And this bothered me. He was either trying to screw with my mind (and doing a damn good job of it), scare the hell out of me (also succeeding), or he just plain wanted…..things of me (which I hoped to god he would never get). Hell, maybe all three. He makes my life a living hell because he _likes_ to (and at this point, I was beginning to wonder what other _things_ he liked). I liked the situation far better when he just plain hated me. 

In any case, I came to the conclusion that _somehow_ that asshole had found out about my suicidal nature, and was trying to push me over the edge. I guess I should thank him. Because of that, I gave up all thoughts of ever killing myself. I refused to give him that satisfaction. "Mr. Potter, you have a visitor." Madame Pomfrey's voice broke my thoughts off completely. Naturally, I thought that it would be Ron or Hermione, so I sat up instantly, and tried to look less angry.

"You don't look half bad for a mud-blood who fell off his broom." Definitely NOT Ron.

"What the hell are _you _doing here?" There he was, the human being (if he is indeed human) I wanted least to see, grinning broadly at the end of my bed, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Oh, just checking up on how you were doing, is all." I would have been more likely to believe him if he said he had just eaten a mountain troll.

"Oh, is that all?" Malfoy ignored my sarcasm.

"That, and I felt that an apology was in order, but if you're going to be so _rude_-" That, I couldn't take.

"Like you've apologized for anything in your entire life." His presence was beginning to stink up the room. And his smirk was really getting to me. One day, his face will get stuck like that.

"One of the first things I did when I met you was apologize." This, I didn't expect. He _did_ apologize to me when he brought up my parents when I first met him….

"True that you may have _said_ that you're sorry, but have you ever _felt_ sorry?" That hit a nerve. So, I did the only thing that seemed logical (I pissed him off more). "Do you even feel anything at all?" Malfoy looked mad- not angry-mad, either; he looked _hurt. _

"_Yes_, Potter, I do." Although he really didn't need to word it, my question had been answered. "I just wonder if _you_ do." He pulled out some papers from his robes and tossed them on the bed. "And here's your homework." Without another word he turned and left the hospital wing. If I hadn't already been beyond confusion, that would've confused the hell out of me. I really didn't feel like dwelling on it though, so I asked Madame Pomfrey if I could leave (she said no, but hey, it was worth a try). Accepting defeat, I lay back down on the bed and tried to get some more sleep.

It turns out that I wasn't able to leave the hospital wing until the next day. Madame Pomfrey had become very weary of my visiting her so much over the years, but she was still as cautious with me as she was in my first year. Ron and Hermione came to get me first thing in the morning (before they even got any breakfast). They were being as fussy as Madame Pomfrey. "Are you _sure_ you're alright, Harry?"

"I'm fine." _I'm walking, aren't I? _"Really." Hermione burst out with all her reasons for my not to be okay.

"But you fell such a _long_ way down, and Malfoy landed on you. The shock hit you on both ends- I can't imagine how many bones you must have-" 

"Trust me, it's not something you want to imagine." I smiled weakly. "It hurt." Ron laughed. It was a relief to hear him laugh. It made Hermione see that she was being silly, and I could go back to being their friend, instead of the famous Harry Potter (whom nothing bad could happen to or the world would end). "Come on, let's hurry. I haven't had much to eat since……well, since I got in there." Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then looked at me, and we all bolted to the hall- towards food.

Had I not been so preoccupied with inhaling whatever came close to my plate, I might have noticed Malfoy a lot sooner than I had. He was _staring _at me. Fred was the one who pointed it out to me. "What's that pale git think he's looking at?" I immediately turned to face the Slytherin table. And sure enough, there was Malfoy, hands on either side of his empty plate, staring directly at me. It was creepy, like he was staring into my soul. "Probably plotting something." But my scar didn't hurt. And when someone looked at me that deeply and felt malicious, I felt it. "Hey George, let's give him some of our new product. We can test it on him."

"I don't think he's dumb enough to fall for that." Even though the words came from my mouth, they shocked me all the same. The whole Griffindor table looked at me as if I had bananas growing out of my ears.

"What are you saying, Harry?" It was Hermione who spoke. "That jerk knocked you off your broom and broke nearly half your bones, and you're _defending _him?" She was utterly mortified.

_Not to mention kissed me. But none of you saw that. _"I was just making a statement, Hermione. Just because he's an asshole, doesn't make him stupid." It was true, but it still sounded funny coming from me. "Besides, he looks rather pathetic without his groupies, don't you think? There's no need to waste our time making him look more so." This seemed to satisfy the Griffindors (we all like being reminded that Crabbe and Goyle were no longer there). He did look rather sad without his attachments, and had I not been thoroughly pissed off at (and terrified of) him, I might have felt sorry for him. But as it stood, he could have gone hell and I could not have cared less. 


	3. Undesirable

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters in Harry Potter....you get the idea. Please don't sue me, I'm a poor high school student. 

Undesirable

Potions was not fun the day the day of my return. Snape gave the impression that he wanted me there, as he didn't get nearly as much enjoyment from being an ass to the rest of his students. Furthermore, that bastard Malfoy was loving it. "Having trouble with your potion, Potter?" I could _feel_ Malfoy's smirking. But because it was a teacher who spoke (even though his voice is extremely creepy), I had to be polite (or lose my house 50 points for no good reason).

"I think I might have added the Fickleweed a bit too early-" Snape sneered. Normally I didn't give Snape good cause to ridicule me, but I was still quite disturbed (can you blame me?) and distracted.

"At least you know what you did wrong." From Snape, this almost sounded like a compliment. "I expect you'll want to come after classes today to rectify this mistake." I was screwed. "Besides, you missed class yesterday. Consider it your make-up work."

__

Superb. I think I'd rather have detention with Filch. "Yes sir." Fairness was never a part of my life. Snape passed by Malfoy's cauldron and smiled. _Wow, now there's a surprise. _Draco looked back at his favorite teacher intently.

"Good job, Malfoy." I could feel myself getting sick. "Perhaps _some_ of the other students" (looking straight at me) "could be taking lessons from you." I think Malfoy tried to feign modesty.

"Oh no Professor, I'm just trying to be a good student." Hermione almost fell out of her chair. I don't think she thought it proper to have Malfoy and 'good student' in the same sentence. I didn't think that he belonged in the same sentence with just plain 'good.' The noise that came out of my throat (as much as I tried to suppress it) betrayed me. 

"You don't think so, Potter?" Only one thought came to me at that moment.

_Shit._ Snape (and Malfoy) looked amused.

"Perhaps we shall see." He turned to his (obviously) favorite student, noticeably having an idea. " Please stay after class for a few minutes, Malfoy." Shock spread through the room as if Dumbledore was dancing the canasta on Snape's desk. Snape _never_ held Malfoy after. He never held _anyone_ after, for that matter. He was always happy to get rid of us 'dunderheads.' But then again, he _did_ like Draco…."You too, Potter." He said my surname with much animosity. "We need to discuss your assignment."

I was thankful to finally be out of classes, but that meant I had to go back to Potions for my 'assignment.' "Don't worry about it too much, Harry." I could not help looking at Hermione strangely for her statement.

"Of course I'm going to worry about it." Letting out a huge sigh, I plopped down on a couch in the common room. "I'm getting a test grade for this." Ron looked terrified.

"He's _grading_ you on this?!" It appears I was not the only one who noticed the unfairness of the entire thing. He looked at Hermione, perplexed. "_Can_ he be graded on a detention?" Hermione shook her head.

"It isn't a detention. It's a graded assignment for the class time he missed- perfectly legal." Ron bit his lip.

"Oh well, I might as well go down there." Ron, not knowing what else to do, sat down. "There's no sense in my being late." I stood up and Hermione nodded.

"We'll be waiting for you here, Harry." She sat down next to Ron. "Good luck." The fat lady warned me before I left that if I came back too late, she wouldn't let me in (on the account of pictures needing to sleep too). I really wasn't in any hurry to get there, but I managed to in less time than it normally took me. Not even one trick stairway delayed my arrival to the dungeons.

_Figures the damn things wouldn't prevent me from going somewhere that I don't want to. If this had been to a Quidditch game, I would've hit every damn one. _The dungeon was unusually dark (even for a dungeon), giving it a kind of creepy effect. I could barely see (making it all the worse when I found myself being grabbed from behind and held quite tightly). The figure that had grabbed me was too small to be Snape, smaller even, than me. However, at first I didn't resist (owning to the fact that there was a wand poking me threateningly in the side). 

"Round two, Potter." His voice was no more than a whisper, but it gave itself away immediately. "Let's see how you do this time." Hot lips brushing my ear with every word did not do for me what I wanted it to. I relaxed for a moment, until I felt his hand slipping into my robes…

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" I grabbed his wrist and swung him off me, so that we ended up being face to face. It was at that moment that Snape walked in. I cannot say that it was amusing that he happened to walk in while I was forcibly holding Malfoy's wrist. But for some reason or another, he seemed to ignore it.

"Are you ready Potter?" I gawked at him stupidly and nodded. "I don't want Mr. Malfoy to be here all night on the account of your inability to show up to my class." 

"Malfoy?" To this, Snape looked amused.

"Yes, I chose who I thought would be best for the job of handling this test for me. I cannot stay here all night for you, Mr. Potter." He smirked (I felt like I had been set up). "There is a matter of utmost importance that I must attend to. You are to stay here until Mr. Malfoy believes that you have completed the assignment properly." With that, Snape turned and left the room (leaving me in a dark, secluded room) alone with Malfoy. This was not the happiest moment of my life.

"Why the hell are you doing this?" He smiled almost sweetly (almost).

"I'm just trying to help my fellow classmate pass a test. Why is that suspicious?" I think he was trying to pull a 'I'm sweet and innocent' bit. 

"Right." The sarcasm in my voice could not have been more obvious if I had a sign on my forehead saying 'You are full of shit.' "Lets just get this over with then." I walked over to my desk and started to get out my supplies. Obviously not in a good mood, I cut my Fickleweed angrily, and uneven.

"Off to a bad start already." He came up behind me, seized my knife hand, and directed it to cut the weeds properly. "Your technique is off. You should be more gentle." I did not enjoy his hand on top of mine.

"What do you know about being gentle?" I realized too late that saying that was not a good idea.

"Oh, I can be _very_ gentle." He leaned in closer to my face, putting an arm around my waist. I really couldn't do anything about it; if I moved too suddenly, the potion would be ruined. Not knowing what else to do, I turned my attention to the cauldron, waiting for the first signs of any red precipitate. As soon as I saw it, I picked up my Fickleweed gently, stirring it slowly into the mixture (ignoring the stray arm around my waist and the breath on my neck). The sticky, dark red solution that filled my cauldron following my tedious mixing, let me know that my potion was complete (and correct). Malfoy stood up (removing his arm, thankfully) and pulled his wand out of his robes. For a moment, I thought he was going to jinx my potion, to earn me bad marks, but surprisingly, he didn't. Instead he conjured up a vase-sized bottle on the table, and began spooning my potion into it. It wasn't until he corked it, that I asked him why.

"What is-" He smiled at me (completely throwing me off guard).

"This is so the professor has something to see of your work, Potter." Without making any noise, he walked across the room, placing the bottle on Snape's desk. He scribbled something on a piece of parchment (that I couldn't see) and put it under the bottle. I remained dazed and confused during his trek back across the room. He used this to his advantage.

"What the-" Draco had swept my feet out from under me (with a well placed kick) and using my momentum, thrown me to the table, pinning me there with his right arm. I couldn't help feeling idiotic. "I should have known you'd have something up your sleeve."

"Whatever do you mean? The assignment isn't over until the potion has been tested." I highly doubt the look on my face could have been described.

"What?!" Malfoy seized the ladle from my cauldron with his free arm and held it above my face, daring me to struggle. "Are you out of your bloody mind?!! That's a-" My words were cut off as a dark red liquid fell into my open mouth, forcing me to swallow (or choke). My brain told me to close me eyes, but they defied me and remained open (in shock).

"Love Potion." I continued to lie on the table after Draco had lifted his arm off of me. I was too disoriented to move. Everything around me was cloudy, and the ceiling was spinning. Draco's face was the one thing that remained clear as the world I knew fell apart. It was the first thing I had seen after I swallowed my potion. At that moment, I knew that the thing my heart least desired, would be the _only_ thing my body would be able to.


	4. Misunderstood

Misunderstood

The next portion of my life can only be described as utter hell. For at least a week, Malfoy seemed to be following me everywhere (regardless of the fact that I purposely located myself in places where I knew that he would not be). He was everything I saw (like the Tootsie-roll, only lacking in chocolatey goodness). I was seeing him like I used to see Cho (that is until she tried to hang herself in the prefects bathroom (she just couldn't accept Cedric's death) and they put her in the loony bin for wizards). Words like 'beautiful' and 'sexy' were popping into my brain whenever I thought about him (which was frequent, despite my angry mental cursing). And then there were the moments when he _did_ decide to grace me with his presence. The first was at breakfast, the day after he made me choke down my own Love Potion. 

I saw him, sitting at the Slytherin table laughing and talking; having a grand old time. I felt like spitting. Then he noticed me. I suppose the livid glare I was sending in his direction amused him; something about look he was giving me- lips pursed together in a half smile, inwardly laughing at my torment. He also seemed to think it was necessary to blow me a kiss before resuming his conversations with the other Slytherins. It really wasn't. I truly did not need to know how strong an undiluted Love Potion could be. Malfoy's playful kiss (from across the room) hit me like a brick. My face got hot (and it wasn't the only place, either) and turned red as a bloody tomato (once again, it wasn't the only area to do so). I felt very vulnerable and very obvious. I had to find a bathroom, and quick (I _needed_ relief). It was a mistake on my part to believe I could sneak out of the great hall unnoticed (everyone knows me, someone's bound to be looking at me any given time). I had almost reached the bathroom when a cool voice stopped me in my tracks. "Where are you going, Potter?"

_Fuck._

"You shouldn't try to sneak out of the hall like that." The icy voice of my unwanted admirer was enough to make anyone sick. "The teachers don't like that." Add to it a comment like that, and you're liable to be throwing up for weeks. 

"Like you actually care what the teachers think." _Like I actually care what the teachers think…_

"Oh course I do." He grabbed my wrist, begging for me to retaliate. "But I care a whole lot more about something else right now." He turned his attention to my nether regions. I really don't want to know what he would have done if I hadn't backhanded him across the face. It may not have been the best choice though (he had adopted that dangerous look of hurt again), and returned my act of violence with one of his own. He _slapped _me. But for some reason, which can only be attributed to the potion, it felt more like a steamroller than a hand. I fell to my knees, writhing in pain, something I had not done since Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse on me. Malfoy left me there, ignoring my anguish as a lay squirming on the floor.

Well, I can say one thing for sure: this had to be the all time low of my already dejected life. I tried to avoid Malfoy (more than I already did), because, well, I couldn't _look _at him. Well, not without certain_ problems_ anyway. If he so much as winked at me, I'd have to walk away, carrying my books in front of me (covering certain things I didn't want anyone else seeing, if you catch my drift). Basically, he could give me a stiffy with the wave of a hat. And Snape (I swear he was in on it) decided that he was going to sit me next to the sniveling weasel, on a daily basis. Everyone thought that it was just Snape being his usually cherry self (*cough cough*), and thought nothing of it. I, on the other hand, knew better (I wasn't able to escape Potions without a tomato for a face and my books plastered firmly to my legs). Eventually, despite my pride, I had to tell someone. Why I chose Myrtle is beyond me.

"God, you're life sucks more than mine did." What a huge boost that gave my esteem.

"Gee, thanks. I can't tell you what that means to me." The sarcasm in my voice did not go unnoticed.

"Well, you don't have to act so damn ungrateful, I'm only trying to help." For once, she didn't break out in tears. I guess now that she had found someone more pathetic than her, she wouldn't get as easily depressed. "Well, if you decide to kill yourself, my toilet is open to you." 

_It had crossed my mind...._ I couldn't help myself. All those times I would have killed myself before this happened, multiplied by this. Depressed would not be my choice of words._ But godammit, Draco, I will not give in!_

"Well, I don't know much about potions, myself, or else I'd try to help you." She looked depressingly down at her not so solid hands. "That, and I can't hold a cauldron."

Thanks, Myrtle." She looked at me sideways before I turned around to leave. 

"You will come up to see me again?" 

"Sure, whatever." I left the girl's bathroom under my invisibility cloak (being seen coming out of a girl's bathroom was not high on my list of things to do) without looking back at her. If I had a reason to come back to her bathroom, I would.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for me in the Griffindor common room, looking as if they thought I was hiding something from them (I was, but that is besides the point). _Oh God. They know._

"Harry, we....we have something to ask you." 

__

Here we go. "Ask away." My tone was that of indifference. If I acted like I had nothing that I cared enough about to hide from them, maybe they wouldn't think it was important.

"We saw Malfoy hit you." This did not improve my mood.

"And?"

"We _saw_ it." Hermione at times, could be _very_ annoying. "_All_ if it. We saw how you reacted."

__

Great.

"Harry, is there something going on here that we don't know about?" Um, maybe?

"Did he curse you? Did he _do_ something to you?" Gee, the glaringly obvious hurts.

"Something along those lines."

"Did he _rape_ you?" 

"No!" My tone could not have been described as anything other than indignant. _Well, not yet, anyway. But I wouldn't put it past him._

"But he did _something_ to you." DUH. Well, I suppose there really was nothing left for me to do besides tell them. So I told them everything-back to the time he kissed me on the Quidditch field. They were surprised that I had managed to keep it to myself, and disgusted at the whole thing. That, we had in common. They hugged me and cried (y'know sappy, emotional stuff). Ron pretty much dragged me back to the boys' dorm. I guess he was afraid of leaving me alone (and rightfully so) and I was too much of a wreck to walk myself. I don't really remember much else about that night-a lot of crying and angry Malfoy-bashing. I went to sleep that night wishing my problems were back to nondescript nightmares. Now I knew what I was going to be dreaming about. And it was NOT pleasant.


	5. Violated

Well, here's the awaited chapter 5. I don't own any of the characters here, not making any money off of them, so please don't sue me, I'm trying to save money for college.

Violated

"Harry!" I barely heard my name being called and was not really in the mood to respond anyway. "Harry! Are you alive?"

"Unfortunately…." _Crap, I said that out loud._ Thankfully, I heard relieved sighs; they really had not heard what I had said (or paid attention to it. For a few minutes at least, I didn't know where I was (I was reeeeeeeeeeally messed up). I was aware of the fact that my two best friends were talking to me (I couldn't especially see them though, everything was kinda fuzzy) and that it was dark (unless it was my imagination) and rather chilly.

"Are you alright?" To tell you the truth, I don't think I could have answered that question if I had wanted to. I didn't know if I was okay. I didn't know much of anything. I just knew that I couldn't see very well (I might not have been wearing my glasses) and that I hurt like hell.

"Oh, that's not gong to do anything Ron," I think she scowled (it _sounded_ like a scowl). "I doubt if he can tell left from right like he is now." I have to say I agree with her. I don't think I could've told you what directions_ were, _much less which was which. "We've got to get him out of here." Logically, they had to have carried me, because I woke up somewhere else later in the day. 

"Are you awake?" I felt comfortable (it was cozy in the hospital wing) in familiar surroundings (I saw more of this room than my own, I think). I did what I thought was a nod (my motor functions were a bit substandard) and tried to reply.

"Uh-uhhuuh." If I were asked to translate, I think it would say "Dumb ass, of course I'm awake! Can't you see my obviously _open_ eyes?" But a garbled mess of uh's is all I managed to say.

"The poor thing, all he's been through……" 

__

All what? I knew I was to whom they were referring (I just wish I knew what they were referring to me for). 

"I think the trauma…." 

__

Oh goooooooodie! I've been traumatized. I felt kinda left out though. I couldn't, for the life of me, remember what (or who) had 'traumatized' me. 

"…has caused him to into shock. I'm sorry, professor, I don't know what can be done for him." 

__

Professor? Which one? I felt a finger trace the outline of my scar. For some reason, that was soothing.

"Mommy?" The sane side of me was screaming at me. Or would have been. That had died earlier that day. It was a good while before I found out how. And then, I wished that the rest of me had died too.

* * * * * * *

"Oy, Potter, ready for another round?" I spun around, discovering Satan's spawn within strangling range. Remembering that he could hurt me a hell of a lot worse than I could him, I refrained from doing so. 

_Stupid potion…_ I really would have like to hit him, to knock that smug and satisfied grin off his face. Once again, I had to force self-restraint._ Oh, the things I would do to you…_

"I seem to be winning…" This whole thing was a game to him; he liked to play with my emotions (or in this case, my hormones). I guess he thought it was fun. I most certainly didn't. Testosterone took over and I lunged at him.

"YOU MISERABLE SON OF A BITCH!" Even though I had pinned him to the ground (and had my hands around his neck, threatening to choke the life out of him) he was _laughing_. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" He found this even more amusing.

"Why?" His high-pitched, insane laughter caused me to almost hurl. "Why?" I should have vomited on him; he was enjoying the situation far too much. "You even need to ask that question?" He smirked, lowering his eyebrows, giving him an evil look (as if he didn't look evil 24/7). "You are so stupid." His voice significantly lowed, catching me off guard. I think that was his plan (he used the opportunity to break my hold on his neck and roll over on top of me). I had a strong sensation of déjà vu.

"Go to Hell, Malfoy." In this position, I could not win a fight (considering the potion I was currently influenced by). He frowned slightly, but did not lose face.

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?" He tousled my hair, playfully (as if he had any right to). Angrily, I snapped my head to the side. This pissed him off.

"Don't touch me, you sick bastard." This pissed him off more. He bared his teeth, like a wolf about to strike and hissed at me.

"_I_ decide what I can and cannot do." He slapped me across the face, enjoying the scream that escaped my lips. 

"Go…to…Hell…" It was a lot more painful to say this then it had been thirty seconds earlier. However, I refused to be subservient (especially to him), no matter how many times he hit me. Slightly amused, he bent down lower, placing us nose to nose. I spit in his face. Of all the things I've ever done in my life, that is what I most regret. The barrage of punches he flung at me were unbearable. I could still fell them long after he stopped. Nevertheless, I would not let him have his way with me (at this point, I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted). Slightly teary, and looking quite insane, Malfoy grabbed my face (now bruised) violently, holding my head still. He ignored the fact that I was punching his back, as he hunched over me, moving closer to my face. I dared not spit at him again (besides, he was holding my cheeks together, so I don't think I could have). 

"If I can't beat you into submission, I'll have to find another way." I have never experienced fear to the degree that I had at that moment before. But my conscious thoughts were lost as he shifted his leg to a strategic location, affecting me in exactly the way he wanted. As much as I tried to suppress it, a moan escaped me. He placed his open mouth over mine, and I was lost in the motions of his tongue.

* * * * * * *

Sweat dripping from my brow, I sat up in the bed (still in the hospital wing), somewhat more conscious of my surroundings, but not totally with it. I remembered the dream I had, but I knew that it wasn't complete. Madame Pomfrey entered my room, and was astonished to see me awake. From the look on her face, I figured she was hiding something from me. I wanted to know what it was. "You know how it ends, don't you?" My voice was calm, but I felt like I would snap at any moment. Madame Pomfrey treated me like I already had.

"Are you alright, Harry?" She spoke to me like I was a small child, yet her tone was frightened. She knew. She knew and she wouldn't tell me.

"How long have I been here?" _How many times has the dream replayed?_ She seemed surprised that I was holding intelligent conversation, and this was bothersome. "Is something wrong? You don't usually look at me strangely when I talk to you. You may look at me with pity, but you've never treated me like this before." The nurse nearly fell over.

"You…you're alright?" I can talk, pretty sure I can walk, and most certainly sure I can speak…

"Tell me how it ends." She looked at me, terrified with a hint of pity.

"What ends?"

"The dream. Tell me how the dream ends."

(Well? Is that a good place to stop? Just kidding ^^. There will be a chapter 6, and I'll try to get it written soon (so don't kill me ^^; I haven't eaten enough pasta to have my life end yet ^_^)

__


	6. Liberation

OK. Here's chapter 6. It's a bit short, but it'll make chapter 5 make a WHOLE lot more sense (sorry about that if any of you were confused ^^;) Oh Yeah. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (or any of the other characters in this story, they ALL belong to the talented J.K. Rowling) and am making no profit from slapping his name across the internet.

Liberation

"You know how it ends. I know you do." Madame Pomfrey looked at me as if I had just announced that I was the antichrist. She had turned a pale color when I had started speaking, and as the conversation progressed, a tint of green hinted on her face.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Harry." She stuttered (something I have never known her to do) so I figured she was lying.

"You're lying." I didn't like being lied to. I had been lied to for the first ten years of my life. Madame Pomfrey backed up, seemingly in terror, shaking her head furiously. "YOU KNOW!" My yelling at her did not improve the situation (she grabbed her wand and sedated me).

When I came to (again), it was not the nurse that I saw, but Professor Dumbledore, looking at me through his half moon spectacles. He seemed distressed about something, but I figured that whatever it was could not be worse than my current predicament, so I paid it no mind. As it turns out, his distress was_ caused_ by my predicament (so I didn't really need to anyway). "How are you feeling, Harry?" If I were paid for every time someone has asked me that…

"Confused." My curt reply did not offend him in the least. "And I want to know."

"To know what, Harry?" This was a classic Dumbledore response. He always had to be the diplomat.

"You know the answer to that question." I refused to play this game. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. But don't beat around the bush." Dumbledore shook his head. 

"Anger and impatience will not serve you well in this instance. They are lousy answers to questions." I think he was disappointed in me. I really didn't care. I didn't care about anything (aside form finding out what happened that day). Later I was angry at myself for saying that to him, but at the moment…

"The dream…I know it's a memory." For the first time since I had met the old wizard, he looked shocked. "It's a memory of what happened the day I was put in here." The headmaster nodded. _I knew it!_

"You are indeed correct, Harry." He turned to Madame Pomfrey, who seemed to be hiding behind him. "He looks fit enough to walk, Madame, and if you approve, I would like to have a word with him in my office."

"You can have a word with him right here…" 

"No my dear nurse, only _my office _will do." I understood immediately. The Pensieve. Dumbledore was going to _show_ me. He was going to let me view a piece of my own memory. A piece he had already extracted from me (I guess to help me retain my sanity).

"I'll be fine, Madame. And I'm sorry for blowing up like that-I was just a little frustrated is all." She didn't seem to buy it, but Dumbledore was the headmaster, after all.

"Alright, but I want him back in here when you're done, Professor." She looked like she had intended to say more, and restrained herself.

I followed the professor to his office (it seems that Lucky Charms was the password for that year), anticipation near boiling over. But before he opened the cabinet, he turned to face me, an expression of grave seriousness on his face. "Harry you are aware of your condition over the past few days?" Um, gee…I dunno…lemme think about that one. Not wanting to be rude, I answered the question honestly (and without my usual permanent tone of sarcasm).

"Vaguely. I remember bits and pieces of the things that went on in the hospital wing." I paused, thinking for a second. "And I think I called you mommy." Dumbledore looked as if he would die laughing.

"You did indeed, my dear boy." Destroying the temporary happy atmosphere, he let his expression return to one of solemnity. "Then you have some inkling of the fact that what I am about to show you is what caused you to…mistake my identity. Among other things, which I cannot say that I was happy to witness." I raised an eyebrow. This was news? "Are you absolutely certain that you wish to experience that shock again?" I nearly bit the school nurse's head off, I was so certain. I nodded solemnly, as I didn't necessarily want to piss off the school's headmaster by saying such. I liked the guy; he was more understanding than anyone else that I knew. I only pissed off people that I didn't like (prime example: Draco Malfoy). After a few well placed mental curses at him (it had become a habit whenever I thought about him), I turned my attention to the rune covered basin of stone. 

I wanted to know what had happened, more desperately than I had ever wanted anything before. A warning flowed into my mind (something about what people most desire being the worst things for them), but I ignored it, as the swirling speed up, and I was sucked in. A large part of me wishes I had heeded that small warning in the back of my brain. I truly was not prepared for what I saw in the swirling silver mass of the Pensieve. 

(Well that's it for chapter 6! I hope it makes a _little_ bit more sense than chapter 5 ^^; I think I might manage to wrap everything up in chapter 7, but if not, 8 would definitely be the last chapter. Don't think you've figured it out though, as the ending might still surprise you (I can be rather sneaky ^^) I'll try to get it/them out quickly, as the response I've been getting is great (and I hate when fics sit unfinished (or un-updated for too long) ^_^ So chao for now, and tell me what you think!) 


	7. Discovery

To honor all the great reviews I've been getting (thank you! *teary eyes*), I haven't had ANY noodles in the past three days (so I hope all of you are pleased with this, it's been taking quite a bit of time). Here's chapter 7. It too is a bit short, but hey, it explains A LOT. There is rape here, it's not graphic, but still, it's rape. Be mature about it. Oh Yeah. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (or any of the other characters in this story, they ALL belong to the talented J.K. Rowling) and am making no profit from slapping his name across the internet.

Discovery

"Oy, Potter, ready for another round?" I recognized the voice, and walked calmly over to where the event was taking place. Neither Malfoy nor I (the other me) could see me, so I could watch the event as an outsider, without interfering. I watched myself lunge at him, watched me yell at him, watched him break my hold, and watched him take my place. 

I stood, and I observed. Still, it was a little hard to remain a calm spectator when you were watching yourself (in a state of total helplessness) against a perverted weirdo, who happened to be sitting on you.

"Go to hell, Malfoy." Well, maybe not total helplessness. I saw myself spit in his face--my true act of defiance. I think I went sort of numb here, though. Hearing my screams as he hit me…I took it in as if I was merely watching a soap opera. This, I had seen before. This I could deal with. Even though I could see the bruises (left over from getting pummeled) from my vantage point, I tried to remain objective. If I snapped now, what would happen when I get 'traumatized?'

"If I can't beat you into submission, I'll have to find another way." My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I watched him push his leg between my thighs. This was it. The fear I had felt at that moment renewed itself; I was afraid for what was going to happen (to the other me) and afraid for what was going to happen to me when I remembered it. 

The kiss that followed my (forced) moan was far different than the one the asshole had originally honored me with. This time, I kissed him back. I let him tug at my robes; enjoyed the tongue tickling my bare chest. I was _giggling_. Disgusted and slightly outraged, I ran over to Malfoy and tried to pull him off of me (it didn't work; this was a memory). Feeling like a ghost, I sat down in defeat, and waited for the trauma to come.

"Stop…" There were tears in my eyes (the me sitting there and the me being molested). I couldn't do anything, in either position; I was the most utterly helpless human being on the face of the earth. 

"STOP!!" It made no difference, but it was good to get it out of my system. Neither my (slightly violent and very loud) or the other me's (desperate and weak) pleas managed to touch Malfoy. He just didn't care. 

"Please stop…" For a second, I almost thought he would. He did, long enough to look deeply (and seemingly thoughtfully) into my (other me's) eyes. The smirk that adorned his face told me otherwise, as did his response.

"No." Plain and simple as that: just no. He truly didn't care what anyone else wanted, as long as he had his way. And by some strange twist of fate, he always succeeded. That insufferable bastard always gets his goddamn way. The current (for other me) interactions were no exception--it was exactly as he wanted.

"So…you like it like that, do you?" The words, strangely enough, came from me. It seemed that the potion had finally taken over my mind. I wasn't in _love_ with him, per say, but I attribute that to the fact that Malfoy was not in love with me either (he just wanted to fuck me). I more or less had adopted the same attitude: emotions didn't matter and neither did morals (just as long as I got some). I'm not sure if this was what he had originally planned, as the other me had rolled over on top of him (doing similar things to him as he had to me), while holding his wrists above his head.

Seeing your own mind snap is not a pretty thing. I got very violent (and _very _kinky), close to ripping his robes off with my teeth. It was disturbing. I hit him as profusely as he had me, kissing him after. He screamed like a little girl when I shattered his innocence (probably all he had left), and I (other me) found it funny. As the me on the floor (getting it on) was laughing, I threw up. 3 times. I _violated_ him. Me. It was sick. If there had been any remotely sharp object in the vicinity (and I hadn't been in a memory), I would've slit my wrists right there. It wasn't right--I was supposed to be the victim here, not him. He started it; it should be his fault.

"Oh…oh my god!" The spell seemed to have passed, but the damage was done. I (having no memory of anything) saw what I had done, lost all sanity, stripped myself of all clothes and jumped out a nearby window. The vision went black. I felt a hand on my shoulder, in a cautious comfort. Dumbledore.

"Do you understand now?" I nodded, tears in my eyes. "Why we were reluctant to show you?" Again I nodded, this time turning into Dumbledore's robes, crying out my eyes out. When I lifted my head again, we were back in his office. A single thought struck me.

"What happened to Malfoy?"

(Should I explain what happened to Malfoy, or leave it like this? ^_^ I like cliff hangers, but sometimes they're evil. Tell me what you think, and I'll add a chapter 8 ^^) 


	8. Guilt

Chapter 8! I know you've been waiting for it for awhile, and I hope it meets your standards. It took awhile 'cause I had to do an English project (and it was kinda a pain in the ass). So enjoy! I do not own any of the characters or cool terms associated with Harry Potter. I'm not making any money, just spreading dementia around. Where's the harm in that? 

8-Guilt

I lay on my bed in the hospital wing, thinking about what Dumbledore had said. Or not said, if you look at it from my point of view. Apparently, I had been in the hospital wing, right up to Christmas vacation. Malfoy was gone. He was at his manor (doing god only knows what), while I lay in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, alone and rotting. 

Dumbledore had told me that Malfoy had gone away for the holidays. And that was it. He refused to tell me what happened to him after I...lost control. Gods forbid I ever find out anything useful. I felt like complete and utter shit. Not even Ron or Hermione were around to comfort me. Not that I really deserved comfort (this was an all time low of self-bashing). I felt like month-old leftover lunchmeat: dirty, slimy, and disgusting. And no amount of washing could cure it. I had lost something that could never be replaced, and I just felt dirty. Not just my virginity, but my sanity was lost as well. The images played over in my head, no matter how hard I tried to block them out. Thinking about Malfoy gave me headaches. I didn't know if he was all right, and it was driving me insane. I guess I felt that I needed to see him. Maybe to apologize, maybe to hit him, I just don't know. Maybe just to see what he would do to me. To see how he felt I should be judged. 

I was worried about him, and it conflicted with my hate for him. It hurt. For the first time in my life, hating him _hurt _(it's difficult to hate someone who you raped). It wasn't entirely my fault; in a sense, I was raped too. But I couldn't place the blame completely on him anymore. I doubted whether any blame would be placed on him at all. He was liable to tell his father about it, and I was liable to be thrown out of school. It just didn't seem fair. We were both at fault (sort of). 

After awhile of this (trying to understand the mechanics of mutual rape) I gave up and wrote some poetry. Usually, I loved writing with my quill pen, but it gave me no pleasure that day. It only made things worse. The lyrics were an exact replica of the way I felt at that moment. Even my inner most thoughts betrayed me (as something resembling the gum on the bottom of a homeless bum's shoe). I was stained, down to my very soul. Hating consciousness, I punched my pillow and tried to sleep.

Having missed Christmas, there wasn't to be too much of a wait before the rest of the students returned to Hogwarts. "So...he lives." I snapped my head up, not expecting anyone for at least a week. Malfoy, however, returned early. He caught me off guard, showing up randomly in the hospital wing, much in the same fashion as he had the day after the Quidditch game that had started it all. His face was unreadable (he wasn't smirking, so I knew he wasn't happy, at least) and his voice was expressionless. "And all this time, I thought you were stuck that way eternally. Oh well, I guess you can't have everything..." I could've hit him. He didn't care about a bloody thing.

"As if _you_ would know..." Draco's glare (in response to my comment) burned my scar. 

"I know plenty more than a mud-blood like you."

"You don't know what it's like to lose everything."

"Oh I know plenty about _losing_ certain things." He smirked (for the fifteen-millionth time). "But then again, I suppose _those_ sort of things are in your department." 

"You would have done it if I hadn't." My voice was strangely cool, for all the anger boiling inside of me.

"I had planned on it." His smirk faded. "Your aggressiveness surprised me, Potter. I didn't think you had it in you." He leaned over me, causing me to fall back on the bed.

"I don't." I was afraid, and my attempted proclamation made it clear as day. 

"Oh, but you do..." 

__

Not again, not again, please! I've already lost it once...Not again. The hot liquid streaming down my face slightly stalled Malfoy. I think he was shocked that I still _could _cry. He stood back up, looking at my crumpled form, in a manner of disgust.

"And I thought this would have removed that sickening weakness from you..." I really don't understand him.

"What are you..." He ran a finger down my cheek, soaking up the offending tear.

"_This,_ Potter." He showed me the tear, acting as if was the most revolting thing he had ever seen. "Your _feeling._" Confusion seemed to walk hand in hand with that boy (along with perversion, disgust, hatred, and a list of other unpleasant things).

"I don't understand..." Hey, it was an understatement, but it was true. "You said you had feelings...and you berated me for not having any." Malfoy looked at me if I had just asked him if the world was really round.

"Does stupidity run in your family?" Well, at least he hadn't changed any; he was definitely still the Malfoy that I knew. "You managed to get under my skin; you affected me like no one ever had before. All because of bloody feelings. It was a weakness that I couldn't allow." Great. He had feelings for me. I never would have guessed. The lyrics of my attempted poem from the night before floated through my mind. It pissed me off.

"That didn't stop you from trying to fuck me every spare chance you got." 

"And I never succeeded, did I?" He was acting as if he had lost to me in Monopoly, not lost his virginity. "Are you happy, Potter. You won." 

"If that's what your game was, you're a sick individual."

"And who, might I ask, is lying in the hospital wing?" He had a point, but it was technically his fault that I was there. And it was off the subject, besides.

"You know that is not what I meant."

"Oh, and what did you mean?" More than anything else, I hate these stupid word games that he plays.

"This doesn't mean a bloody thing to you, does it?"

"No." His curt reply was casual, and empty. "You and I are enemies. I thought it would be fun to play with you for awhile--see if I could push you over the edge." He smirked at me. "I've known about you for some time, you know. How you wanted to kill yourself, I mean." I had figured this, and it was the sole reason that I hadn't.

"How?" There was obvious bitterness detected in my speech, a tone that really never went away afterwards, come to think of it. I still have it.

"It was plastered all over your face. You don't think I know what that looks like? Your friends may be idiots, but I can see right through you."

"So you just wanted to play with my emotions to get me to commit suicide."

"Pretty much." This was too much. He just didn't give a shit.

"You were playing with fire. And you got burned." This seemed to hit a nerve (if he had any left).

"Too bad you had to char yourself in the process Potter." He knew how I felt; he saw the black marks on my soul. "Burns leave scars Potter. And it bothers you far more than ever it will me." I think I growled at him. "You will live forever with the knowledge and guilt of what you did to me." (Again, with the smirk). "And I..." He leaned in closer to me, begging for me to choke him. "I will live with the satisfaction that I had you, and I didn't even have to try. I made you lose your mind. Unfortunately temporary, but I'm sure that the emotional scars will be permanent. You, will never be the same." I don't know how I mustered up a response, emotionally torn as I was; yet somehow, I did.

"And neither will you." 

"True, but I must say, the change is for the better. I have no use for such feelings. Love is a useless, overrated, disgusting thing, and I am glad that I have never experienced it." This was of course, a spiteful pun concerning what we did in that hallway. _Making love._ Hah. Personally, I don't connect sex with love, as my first encounter with it turned out as it did.

"I hope you do someday." This intrigued him.

"What?" He actually sounded interested (I thought it was impossible).

"I hope you do fall in love someday." Malfoy frowned, and crossing his arms across his chest, saw fit to glare at me. "That way, you'll know what _real_ pain is. And I hope it kills you." 

(Did I end it in a bad place again? Do you like Malfoy's reaction? (he's still the same ass he's always been (and we all love him for it ^^)). Should I add another chapter (maybe containing the lyrics to Harry's lil' poem)? I love reading reviews, tell me what you think! ^_^ 'Til chapter 9, my good friends!)


	9. Smitten

(OK, guys, here it is. The LAST chapter. The end. It's pretty much all thought here, not really much as far as "action" goes, but it gives much needed closure. It twists yet again, is dark, and will probably depress you.)

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this fic, and am not getting paid for writing it. (It was written purely for my sick pleasure ^^) Enjoy!!

Smitten

There was no trial concerning the sexual endeavor in the hallways of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had a discussion with the members of the staff (Snape was ALL for having me thrown out), who agreed to keep the situation quiet unless necessary. It was _almost_ a unanimous vote of mutual rape (Snape -_-;). Thankfully, on my part, it was enough to let me stay in school. There was no punishment for either Malfoy or me. Not from the council anyway. They considered my trauma enough punishment for me; and Malfoy...well, his taking it up the ass was enough for him. To make a long story short, business went on as usual. 

Malfoy still tormented me any chance he got, but was noticeably more careful about making passes at me. I think this was due to a rumor going around that he was homosexual (I wonder who started that?) that he, most likely wanted to stop. I didn't really know _what_ he was (he obviously had NO problem banging guys), and I didn't really care. My only concern on the matter was that if he is indeed bi, that he stay away from Hermione. She doesn't need rape in her life anymore than I did. He seems to like tormenting the lives of those he considers 'mud-bloods.' I wouldn't put it past him to try it. In which case, I would kill him. Literally. I'd probably go to Azakaban for it, but unless the dementors get off on schoolboy smut, there really aren't any thoughts worth sucking out of me. That, and I really don't care anymore. I don't think there's a soul left in me to devour. 

I guess, in essence, Malfoy got what he wanted. I lost all sense of self worth that I had left, and he managed to have me (maybe not in the way he planned, but I don't think that it matters to him). He got inside my head, and he did some damage. Damage, I am certain, (I know he's jumping up and down with utter glee) will never be repaired. I just hope to god that he doesn't target anyone else. He likes to play with my mind for the sheer joy of it; there's no telling what else he does in his spare time. I don't even want to know what other 'hobbies' he has. Or who else he toys with. No one deserves that (except for me apparently...aren't I lucky?). I'd rather have my mind raped of all sanity a hundred times before I'd see him do it to someone else. This makes me sound jealous...

"Bloody Hell..." I couldn't even go for five minutes without worrying about what that bastard was doing. I don't care about him. I don't. The potion he made me drink made me want him...but it didn't make me love him. I will NEVER love him. Never.

* * * *

Sometime after year 7

Well, so ends my little narration of how I came to this point in my life. You might wonder how such awful things could happen to "such a nice boy," but believe me, I am not nice. If I were nice, I would've given that bastard a chance at friendship. Maybe things would be different if I had. Sometimes I wonder if he does have feelings. My life would not improve any, but perhaps it would give me an opportunity to hurt him. And gods, I want to hurt him. Look at what he has done to me. In a way, he has turned me into another version of himself; consumed by malice, thriving on hate. He thrives on my hate. And I am beginning to thrive on it too--just like Malfoy. And it scares me. Not to sound haughty, but I know that I am a powerful wizard, and I know how much damage I could do if I become like him. _Everybody_ trusts me. _Everyone_ acts as if I'm their goddamn savior. _No one_ would ever expect me to hurt them. Yet I have become obsessed with hurting. Maybe not hurting people in general, but it's not much different. Malfoy is not the only person I bear hate for. I hate him more than anyone, true, but what if I become so far gone that I begin to want to hurt everyone who I hate? And it becomes extended to their friends? And those who have sympathy for them? I'd end up hurting people I don't even know--who I personally have no malice towards. I'd hurt people just because they shared kindness with others (whom I happen to despise). And more likely than not, hurting would turn to killing. Hate is powerful, and I can feel it consuming me. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I have no choice but to give in to him. It makes me sound like a coward, yes, but I don't care. I'd rather send myself to Hell than to create it here. My soul is already stained--one more black spot won't make a difference. I am a coward and I am selfish. And I don't care. I ceased caring about my existence along time ago. So "Good-bye, cruel world," to quote many before me, I will not miss you. 

Ron, Hermione, I'm sorry. I am not as strong as you think. Whatever things I leave behind, I leave them to you. Sirius, forgive me. But I doubt that you would have wanted me to become like those who killed my parents; who killed your friends. Draco, oh, Draco. I hope you are the one to find me. You should be the one to see me, mangled and destroyed. It is, after all, your fault. It's what you wanted, isn't it? What I leave with my body is for you. It is written in blood, and so cannot be destroyed. But try as much as you like. Think of it as a piece of myself I leave behind to torture you with. 

You delayed my doing this; you delayed the end to my suffering. Originally, I believed you wanted me to die. So I fought you and lived. Now I realize that you wanted me to live. You wanted to torment me, and that would be difficult if I were dead. Maybe you loved me (in a twisted way, granted), but love takes many forms, doesn't it? Take my hate; embrace it. And suffer for your love. Good-bye, Draco. I'll see you in Hell.

__

Nothing ever touches you; you've never known pain.

You cry when you don't get your way, but that's just not the same.

My world is hard, dark and cruel; pain is all I know.

You couldn't understand what it was like for me to grow.

No one ever questioned you; I was always wrong, 

Yet you are never running free, or bursting into song.

You couldn't comprehend the cross I have to bear,

You try to ignite passion in a love we do not share.

You seem to think you have a reason to be glum,

While you have me just where you want me: right under your thumb.

Ever since I can remember I have been cursed.

You're an angel, I'm a devil; our roles should be reversed.

There is no peace in my world; there is no white dove.

You love me for my hatred and I hate you for your love.

END!!!!!!!

(Did you like it? It doesn't leave much room for a sequel (sorry), unless it's from Draco's point of view... That could be fun.... He deserves to be tormented.... In any case, it's the definite end now ('cause the narrator can't narrate anymore) Thanks for all the support for writing this! (I read every review...I love reading reviews ^^) If you want a sequel, let me know (I can have fun torturing Draco's mind as well....) 'Til the next fic! Adieu!!)

~lord of the ramen 


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